Fozia and the Quest of Prince Zal

by Rosanne Hawke

  Rosanne Hawke is a South Australian author of over thirty books. She lived in Pakistan and the United Arab Emirates as an aid worker for ten years. Her books include Kelsey and the Quest of the Porcelain Doll, a CBCA Notable Book, and Taj and the Great Camel Trek, winner of the 2012 Adelaide Festival Awards for Children’s Literature and shortlisted for the 2012 NSW Premier’s Literary Awards. She is the 2015 recipient of the Nance Donkin Award; an Asialink, Carclew, Varuna and May Gibbs Fellow; and a Bard of Cornwall. She teaches creative writing at Tabor Adelaide and writes in an old Cornish farmhouse with underground rooms, near Kapunda.

  www.rosannehawke.com

  Also by Rosanne Hawke

  Jehan and the Quest of the Lost Dog

  Kelsey and the Quest of the Porcelain Doll

  Chandani and the Ghost of the Forest, with L Penner and L Cooper (illus.)

  Beyond Borders (Dear Pakistan, The War Within, Liana’s Dance, Finding Kerra)

  The Tales of Jahani (Daughter of Nomads, The Leopard Princess)

  The Truth about Peacock Blue

  Kerenza: A new Australian

  Shahana: Through my eyes

  Killer Ute

  The Keeper

  Sailmaker

  Mountain Wolf

  The Messenger Bird

  Taj and the Great Camel Trek

  Marrying Ameera

  Mustara, with R Ingpen (illus.)

  Soraya the Storyteller

  Across the Creek

  Wolfchild

  Zenna Dare

  For my grandson Amos Reich

  1

  Fozia

  In the morning, before school, Fozia put a tin water pot on her head and walked down the lane towards the river. Finally, six months after the flood, the water levels were almost back to normal. Her dog Lali raced to the river’s edge and sat to wait for Fozia. Lali’s tongue hung out happily and her red fur made her easy to spot. How wonderful it was that Jehan had found Lali in the flood last year. Fozia had thought she drowned when the water had swamped their house.

  ‘Fozia!’ Jehan chased after her with a plastic bucket. ‘Wait for me.’

  She turned with hands on her hips. ‘I thought you wanted a sister to fetch pani so you could sleep in?’

  Jehan laughed. ‘I like watching you carry the pani. But I’ll fetch some in the bucket as well so you don’t have to come twice.’

  ‘That’s kind, Jehan.’

  These were times she let herself enjoy being with Jehan. Life by herself in the tent camp had been difficult, but the last few months living with Jehan’s family made her forget that. They couldn’t make her forget her own family though.

  They reached the riverbank where Fozia filled the pot and settled it on her head again. Lali jumped around them both as they headed back. Jehan’s bucket sloshed as he walked behind her.

  ‘Hurry up, Jehan,’ Fozia said. ‘We’ll be late for breakfast.’

  ‘Zarur, certainly,’ Jehan said. He never seemed to mind when she roused him. In the courtyard they poured the water into a barrel, then Fozia dipped a jug in to fill it, wiped the bottom and carried it to the gas stove to make chai.

  ‘Shukriya, thank you,’ Aunty Meena said. She was sitting on a low stool, cooking roti on a steel plate. Uncle Akram smiled at Fozia as he ate his roti and egg on the courtyard charpai.

  Jehan’s parents had both made her feel welcome. She was glad they said she could attend the tent school with her friend Shakila, too. Before the flood, Fozia thought she’d never be able to keep studying, as her father was about to start her working at the brick kiln.

  She shuddered. She couldn’t think of anything more demanding: working fourteen hours from morning till night, moulding bricks from clay to be fired in the huge kiln. She’d never again see a brick-kiln chimney without remembering how weary her mother became. Fozia knew she could do anything in life if she went to school, not just make bricks and grow tired like her parents.

  After breakfast, Izaak, Shakila’s youngest uncle, ferried the children from the village to the school in his colourful boat. The boat trip always reminded Fozia of the day Izaak rescued her from the flood and took her to the tent camp. He didn’t drive so fast on school days though, not since Miss Parveen, their teacher, told him the girls mustn’t get their clothes wet.

  Amir, Jehan’s little brother, waved from the bank as the boat roared away. Lali’s two pups tumbled beside him as Lali barked from the boat. Miss Parveen allowed Fozia to bring Lali to the school tent, but the dog couldn’t come inside. Her teacher said it would make Fozia happier to have Lali nearby, though Fozia had another reason for bringing Lali. If her parents had been found and were in the camp, Lali would know.

  Fozia sighed. Hardly anyone new came to the camp now.

  Shakila met them near the place where her uncle Izaak tied his boat. Fozia and Jehan took off their sandals so they could walk through the mud to dry land. Then Jehan hugged Lali, before running off to find his friends.

  Shakila said, ‘Salaam, Fozia. I have news!’

  Fozia felt the lurch in her middle that struck every time someone had news. Would it be about her family?

  Fozia hugged Shakila. ‘What have you heard?’

  ‘Can you imagine,’ Shakila said, ‘Chacha Izaak got the internet working at last. We’ll be able to talk to Kelsey in Australia!’

  Fozia slumped inside when it wasn’t word of her family, but she forced herself to look happy. It would be good to talk to their friend Kelsey again. She and her parents had come to help build houses for a few months after the flood. ‘When can we use it?’

  ‘We’ll do it next Saturday. There’s a time difference. When Kelsey has dinner it will be 2pm here. Can you come to our house then, after school finishes?’

  Fozia stared at Shakila’s shining eyes. Yes, it was good news. ‘Zarur, certainly. Can the boys come? Amir could play with your little brother.’

  ‘Ji, Kelsey will want to see them all, too.’

  The girls walked up the rise to the camp where the tent school stood. ‘Abu said they’ll start building a proper school for us soon.’

  ‘Accha, that’s good. Maybe Kelsey’s father will come back to supervise.’

  Shakila stopped and grabbed Fozia’s arm. ‘That’s such a khoob idea. Maybe Kelsey will come with him.’

  They ran the rest of the way with Lali bounding ahead. Lali had a special mat outside the tent to sit on. She wasn’t allowed to distract the girls, especially when Fozia took the younger ones outside under a tree to learn their times tables. Fozia enjoyed teaching the little girls, even though they made her think of Saima, her little sister. She even kept a bag of buttons in her pocket to help them with their sums. When it was time for games, Lali helped the girls find the ball. That was Lali’s favourite time.

  At lunchtime, Fozia went into the camp kitchen to find Izaak. He was usually in there helping cook for the displaced people without families. It was where she ate before she went to live with Jehan’s family. It was where Lali first found her.

  Would it be so bad if she always lived with Jehan’s family? What if she hadn’t searched enough for her own family? She hadn’t been back to see her village, but now that the floodwater had receded, perhaps she could be brave enough to go.

  Izaak was washing his hands. He smiled at her. ‘Salaam, Fozia.’

  ‘Salaam, Chacha ji.’ It was what all the children called him. Even though he was Shakila’s uncle, everyone loved him, especially kids who had lost family in the flood. ‘I was just wondering if you’ve heard anything new about
my parents?’ She asked him this every week, and he always answered the same.

  ‘Nai, I would tell you if I discovered new information.’ His voice was just as kind as ever.

  ‘What about other camps that haven’t been checked?’ Fozia asked this most times, too.

  He sighed. ‘There are more camps, but still your parents’ names haven’t appeared. Your father’s name is not unique. It takes a long time to check each name, especially when they are popular names like yours. A million people must have the family name of Masih.’

  ‘Accha?’ Fozia didn’t say anything else.

  Izaak leaned closer. ‘Fozia, every effort is being made to get families back together. I’m sorry we haven’t found yours.’

  Fozia thought of her parents and her father’s parents. Their village near Lahore had flooded, too, and Izaak couldn’t find her grandparents either. She couldn’t give up hope though.

  ‘Shukriya, Chacha ji.’ She took a breath. ‘I have another request.’

  ‘Zarur, certainly.’ He sat on a stool. ‘What can I do?’

  ‘Could you take me to see my village?’ She hesitated. ‘Perhaps my parents have gone back now to clean up?’

  Fozia wondered if it were possible. The flood had been so huge that the water was only now returning to normal. It might mean her parents could return.

  Izaak’s eyes were kind and sad at the same time. ‘Zarur.’ He looked as if he wanted to say more when Shakila raced up.

  ‘There you are, Fozia. Miss Parveen needs you to play the circle game with the little girls after lunch. But I want to show you something first. Can you come to the house for a moment?’

  ‘Zarur.’ She turned back to Izaak. ‘Shukriya, Chacha.’

  The girls left the tent camp and walked across the fields to Shakila’s place. Shakila took Fozia into the yard behind her courtyard to see the peacock. Fozia always marvelled at how Shakila’s father, Mr Waheed, had rescued the peacock from the flood. Much like Jehan rescuing Lali, she supposed. The peacock strutted over to say hello, and Fozia gave him some seeds. Then he turned towards a wire enclosure and raised his tail. His new long feathers had almost grown out.

  ‘Why is this chicken coop here?’ Fozia asked. She hadn’t noticed it last time she visited.

  ‘Look inside,’ Shakila invited.

  Fozia peeked through the wire and saw a brownish bird with a bright blue head similar to the peacock’s. ‘It’s a mate for him?’

  ‘Ji, Chacha Izaak bought her at the bazaar. It’s a peahen, and when she starts laying eggs, the chicks can be safe in the coop. It’s spring soon, so she might start laying in a few weeks. Especially since the peacock hasn’t stopped trying to get her attention since she came.’

  ‘Wah.’ Fozia liked baby animals and birds, especially since the horror of the flood. They made her feel the world was the right side up again. ‘Shukriya for showing me. Please tell me as soon as there is an egg.’

  Shakila laughed. ‘We hope she lays more than one. She’ll lay one a day until she has enough to sit on.’

  Fozia returned to the tent school, her step lighter. The peahen had cheered her up. She was doing more to find her family, and now she felt glad to help with the little girls.

  2

  Prince Zal

  That night, Jehan and Amir were extra polite to Fozia during dinner, and Jehan even offered to help her wash the dishes. Then he and Amir settled on their charpai with the pups, Lal and Nala, and waited for Fozia. The pups weren’t allowed to sleep or play inside, but they could be held on the boys’ laps during a story. Lal tried to jump on Nala, but she nipped him. Lal began to howl before Amir stopped him. ‘Chup.’

  ‘I don’t think I’ve seen you boys so well behaved,’ Fozia said.

  Aunty Meena laughed. ‘You’ve charmed them, Fozia.’

  Amir couldn’t keep quiet a moment longer. ‘We want you to tell us a story, Fozia.’

  Moments like these almost made Fozia forget her heartaches. Yes, it was good to be living with this family. In the camp she had always been lonely and angry.

  ‘How about a story about pariyan?’ Amir asked.

  Jehan snorted. ‘Fairies?’

  ‘Folktales and pari tales can tell us a lot about ourselves. My ummie told us a story once …’ Fozia hesitated. Even saying her mother’s name made her heart flutter.

  ‘And?’ Amir said. ‘How did it start?’

  ‘I don’t remember it all,’ she said quietly.

  ‘We’ll help you remember.’ Amir made room for Fozia to sit.

  ‘Who’s in the story?’ Jehan asked.

  Fozia fingered the crochet on her scarf. ‘A prince called Zal.’

  ‘Like the hero from the Persian Book of Kings?’ Jehan asked.

  Fozia tipped her head to the side. ‘Ji.’

  ‘Our teacher told us that Zal was an albino and so his father sent him away,’ Jehan said. ‘A giant bird looked after him.’

  ‘A prince sounds better,’ Amir said. ‘What’s he look like?’

  Fozia gave a deep sigh. ‘He’s tall and has black hair that flops over his forehead. His smile is wide and his eyes sparkle like brown garnets.’

  ‘Wah,’ Amir said. ‘Where does he live?’

  ‘He lives in a palace. He is the seventh son, so he isn’t very important.’

  ‘Ji, and he needs to do a special deed to get noticed,’ Amir said, as if he knew what that felt like.

  ‘Does he have a quest?’ Jehan said. ‘That’s good in a story. He could go on an adventure.’

  Fozia stared at him. ‘A quest is a good idea, Jehan. But the palace is on a high mountain.’ She thought about it. ‘He would need something to ride.’

  Amir gasped. ‘A flying horse!’

  ‘Nai.’ Fozia remembered the rug she sat on when her mother told stories. ‘A carpet.’

  ‘A flying carpet is good,’ Jehan said. ‘He wouldn’t have to feed it.’

  Fozia patted Lali, who had snuck in. She could be inside sometimes, even though she had never been allowed in at her old house. Helping Jehan survive the flood had made her a very special dog. ‘I’m not sure Ummie said there was a carpet in the story.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Jehan said. ‘This is our story now.’

  ‘How old is Prince Zal?’ Amir asked. ‘Twelve, like you?’

  ‘Fourteen,’ Fozia said.

  Amir nodded. ‘What does he need to do? Fight a giant?’

  Fozia watched the boys for a moment. Their eyes glistened as they hung on her every word. It gave her courage. ‘He needs to find his lost sister.’

  ‘Mmm,’ Jehan murmured. ‘That’s a worthy quest. If you got lost, Fozia, I would fight badrooh, demons, to find you.’

  Fozia’s throat grew tight but she swallowed the lump.

  Jehan, Amir and their pups relaxed on the charpai on either side of Fozia, even though it wasn’t bedtime. Lali lay under the charpai, pretending she wasn’t inside. Fozia felt a cool lick on her toes.

  ‘Accha, this is how it starts …’

  Faraway, where only Khuda knows, there was a kingdom on a mountain. In the palace there lived the badshah, the king; the malka, his queen; and their eight children: seven princes and, the youngest child, a princess named Najya, which means ‘victorious’.

  Since Najya and the youngest prince, Zal, were the closest in age, they played together constantly. Zal made a swing with rope and cloth and hung it from a tree branch so Najya could play on it. He pushed her until she learned to swing it herself. They always pretended they were pariyan because everyone in the kingdom believed in fairies. They played hide-and-go-seek in the palace gardens. ‘Na-ji-a,’ Zal would call, but she hid so well he rarely found her. They even had their own patch of ground and grew herbs and flowers. Whenever Zal came out to play, Najya laughed and ran to him, her brown braids flying
behind her. When he hugged her, she would say, ‘You’re it now – I caught you.’ She was a fast runner, but Zal could always catch her. The garden echoed with her squeals of joy.

  Then Zal fell ill. White patches appeared on his skin, and his toes on one foot grew numb so that he couldn’t tell when he hurt them. That made him limp …

  Amir’s eyes grew wide. ‘What disease did he have?’

  ‘Leprosy.’ Fozia’s voice was soft.

  Jehan frowned. ‘Don’t you die from that or spread it to other people?’

  ‘That’s what everyone thinks,’ Fozia said quickly, ‘but it is hard to catch and it can be cured.’

  ‘Did Prince Zal know that?’ Jehan asked.

  ‘Nai, and the people in his kingdom didn’t either. They didn’t want him in the palace in case the other children became ill, too. His family were sorry, but to keep others safe Zal had to be isolated in a spare room. He couldn’t eat with his family and he couldn’t play with Najya anymore.’

  Both boys groaned.

  ‘But Prince Zal’s brothers didn’t play with her either because she was too young for their games.’

  ‘She must have been sad,’ Amir said quietly.

  ‘Ji, so sad that one day she wandered off to paddle in the river, but it swept her away into the jungle, down the mountain—’

  ‘Prince Zal went after her, didn’t he?’ Amir asked.

  Jehan shushed him.

  ‘Certainly. Even though he wasn’t allowed to be near her in the palace, he watched her from a distance, always. When he heard that she couldn’t be found, he knew she must be in the jungle. He set off straight away. But the jungle was a dangerous place.’

  ‘There would be monkeys,’ Amir said.

  ‘Huge snakes,’ Jehan added.

  Amir’s eyes grew wide. ‘Ferocious beasts.’

  ‘Big cats that eat people!’ Jehan shouted.

  ‘Ji.’ Fozia made a scary face and growled. ‘And a leopard that eats children.’

  Just then Aunty Meena called to the boys. ‘It is time to get ready to sleep. Put the pups out and wash your hands.’